


Volcanic Winter

by Goodnight_Nightvale



Series: In Which Strex Gets Too Involved [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, Consensual Violence, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Jealousy, Knifeplay, M/M, Manipulation, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Reliance in both a healthy way and a probably-not-healthy way, S&M, Scars, Self-Harm, Threats, Unhealthy Relationships, although they don't seem to think so, i don't even know there's all sorts of subtextual subconscious dubcon shit going on here, this is sort of a character study via their interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1602650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodnight_Nightvale/pseuds/Goodnight_Nightvale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, even they are not sure what they have. They are not on the same page. They don't even read from the same <i>book</i>. But here is Diego and there is Kevin, and between them there is <i>something</i>. There are many somethings. </p><p>Let's take a long, hard look at a few, shall we?</p><p>(Spin-off fanfic, starting from the end of ch.15 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1542185/">Sulfuric Sky</a>. It's recommended that you read that one first- but, if you don't want to, the notes here should give you the gist of where the story begins.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Stereotypical Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> ::::::: SPOILER WARNING FOR SULFURIC SKY :::::::  
> To put it as plainly as possible... Diego (DesertBluffs!Carlos) pretended to be Carlos, and went to see Cecil (who is currently being held captive StrexCorp). He gave Cecil a broken arm, and Cecil gave him a broken nose.

He is waiting the moment the doors close. Not directly out front; no, off to one side slightly. Tall, but hunching slightly, in a way that indicates habit. Wide dark eyes, wide smile, busy hands clutching a handkerchief. The resemblance really is striking, though it is familial, not identical; same faces, same slender, long bodies, same pale, pale skin, same blonde hair- though Kevin's is shorter, neat and tidy and several shades softer, a white-blonde and completely natural. He approaches now, those dark eyes heavy-lidded and disapproving as he flicks them towards the cage where Cecil lays, weeping. 

When he looks back, he is  _pouting_. "Your poor nose."  He purrs, is not stupid enough to try and touch; the cloth is simply extended, and despite the fussing his eyes are dark and annoyed. "You should have  _known_  better, really-" 

 -------------------------- 

 

Despite all of the similarities, he would never mistake one of the radio hosts for the other. No amount of tomfoolery or posture change or voice mimicry or hair trimmings would ever trick him into misjudging. He doesn't like to misjudge anything. He is very careful.

 With a small nod of thanks, Diego reaches out to take the cloth.

 "It was worth it," he replies nonchalantly, grimacing a bit as he dabs at his face. He is fine being covered in blood..but honestly, he'd rather it not be  _his_ blood. "He is furious at his little scientist. Whatever caring remained has been shattered. And that was the assignment, wasn't it." It's not a question. He knows what the assignments are. 

 --------------------------

  

Kevin smiles, which doesn't seem like the  _appropriate_  reaction to these words, but it's Kevin, and rarely is anything he does what you think he  _should_  be doing. Emotionally, anyway; in every other way, Kevin is an eager, unflinching puppy, happily trotting along at Diego's heel. He doesn't even need a leash. " _Good_." He purrs, happily, and it's not malice, or anger, simply pure, honest pleasure that Diego has accomplished what he had to...and perhaps a little bit of malice, after all. Kevin is not  _nearly_  so out of touch with reality- in  _some_  ways- as he often seems. "Still, wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been all but  _molesting_  him." Ahh, and there it is; where the malice comes from. 

The possessive spark in his eye is  _not_  gentle. 

He leans against the glass of the 'cage' with one shoulder, head canted slightly. "Did he break it?" He asks, conversationally; they both know what he means, and damn if the little shit still doesn't sound scolding. He's doing it on purpose, too. 

\--------------------------

 

Diego looks up for a moment, dark  (but natural-looking) eyes squinting somewhat at Kevin, brow furrowing. Honestly, he just wants to go change out of these rumpled unflattering clothes. He'd never have worn them if he wasn't pretending to be Carlos, who, unlike himself, clearly has no sense of formality or class.

Instead of answering the accusations, he turns on his heel and begins down the hall. He knows Kevin will follow. He nearly always does.

"There are no mirrors, so I don't know for certain. But if I was to venture a guess, I'd say it is, but not too terribly so. "

\----------------------------

 

And he does. He trots along at Diego's heel like the well-trained dog he is, falls in just a hair's breath behind him; it almost looks like he's by his side, but no, he's following; and the two people who it matters to both know it. He makes a face, wrinkling his nose slightly with lips pulled thin. "Only you would have  _levels_  of broken nose." He informs, still huffy. His eyes are locked on Diego; he watches where he's going, of course, but other people may as well not exist. 

It's always this way when they are together; he becomes the center of Kevin's world, to nearly dangerous extremes.(For other people, that is; Kevin is also far more  _volatile_  then most people assume.) "How did he not know you?" More to himself, more to make noise then anything else. Kevin and Cecil are actually quite alike in a few ways; they both push up their glasses almost compulsively, they both have a fanatical devotion to the man they love, for good or ill, they both are far more then meets the eye, they both have psychic abilities to some degree, they both slouch to make themselves smaller. And they both  _chatter_ . (Though, of course, it's highly unlikely Diego knows any of this about Cecil, or Carlos about Kevin, and even less likely that either cares.) Neither one of them likes silence  and both will fill it with  _noise_ , even if it's nonsensical.  (They are very different in  _more_  ways, and all the ways that matter- but still, it is interesting, all the ways they are  _not_.) 

"I would have known you. It's really not that hard. You'd think it would be obvious. I almost feel bad." There is no real regret in his voice; he  _means_  the almost part. He   _almost_  feels pity, he   _almost_  cares, he   _almost_  has sympathy for a man sobbing in a glass box with a broken heart. 

But in the end, almost doesn't count for anything.  

\---------------------------

 

"Of  _course_ there are levels," Diego retorts, gaze remaining straight ahead. Now that he doesn't have to pretend anymore, his posture is straighter, head up and shoulders back. It makes him taller than Carlos normally is, even though, technically, they are the same height. "Broken noses range anywhere from mild fracture to entirely crushed. There can be quite a range."

He knows that there isn't regret or empathy or even actual sympathy in Kevin for his double. There never has been. But the words aren't void of emotion, either - he's pointing out something  that he's better at than Cecil is, and in a way the phrasing sounds a little desperate. And  _very_ jealous. Even if, in reality, the statement was true.

"He doesn't know that I exist. Not to mention that he was too traumatized to assemble the pieces." They turn a corner, and he shoots Kevin a side-glance. "You..may have. I suppose."

\----------------------------

 

He smiles again; a sweet, beaming, adoring smile, as if Diego has just told him something wonderful. " _Most_  people just say 'broken nose' and leave it at that." He quips, fondly, then- "Of  _course_  I would have. I'd know you anywhere." Simply, honestly, and this is where they diverge, Diego and Kevin.

Kevin  _loves_  Diego. With all his heart, he loves him, with the same innocent, pure love Cecil offers Carlos. 

Diego is  _not Carlos_. 

Still, despite the honest fondness, the possessive jealousy still colors his face. Cecil is lovely; he knows that. There is no way to deny it without lying. And he knows for a fact that Diego finds both power-plays and pain to be a turn on- he bears the scars from both himself, small, ultimately harmless. 

It is irrational, and part of him knows this. But the rest of him snarls that Diego is  _his_ , and seeing his hands on anyone else- let alone someone so identical to Kevin himself- makes him bristle possessively. "Besides, he knows  _I_  exist. Anyone with common sense would realize you do, too. And you and Carlos couldn't be more different." He's being deliberately argumentative; usually Kevin nods and smiles when Diego speaks. Hell, typically Kevin nods and smiles  _period_ ; he doesn't like confrontation. 

Not normally, anyway. 

\------------------------------

 

Diego snorts. "In case you haven't noticed until now, he is an  _idiot._ " 

In an elevator, down a floor, and out again, and they're at their apartment door. It's not so much an apartment as it is something like  _dorms_ , maybe, since it is owned by Strex, maintained by Strex, and lent usage to them by Strex. But it is spacious enough, and it's pleasant, and Diego finds that it fits his needs. 

The security system is fast, accurate, and always supervised, and so the door opens for them automatically. Diego sets the crutch down by the door. "And yes, Carlos and I are different. But we look nearly identical, which is, apparently, all that it takes to convince him."

\-------------------------------

  
_That_  earns a giggle as they are let through, shrugging one shoulder. "Let me see your nose." It's not a request; Kevin is rarely assertive, but that's real concern that touches his face, under the annoyed pouting. "At least it's not bleeding anymore." Another smile, shy and sweet; it's amazing. He touches Diego for the first time; a light, soft touch to his arm. He doesn't do it in public- and even now, it's questioning, almost timid. Kevin has no fear of Diego, but he's also never quiet sure how he'll react to any given stimuli. Sometimes he's receptive, sometimes he isn't, and Kevin himself is irritated and being a brat and he  _knows_  it. 

"Carlos will be difficult after this." He points out, but it's lazy and uncaring; simply stating facts. "Poor thing really got wrapped up in him." Now there  _is_  honest sympathy in his voice, oddly enough. Or maybe it's only an act. Sometimes it's surprisingly difficult to tell what Kevin feels and what he thinks he's  _supposed_  to feel, to project to the people around him who expect him to behave a certian way. There was a time, some years ago, when he was drugged half out of his head to ensure it; they stopped when Diego stepped into the picture. 

They were no longer needed. 

\------------------------------

 

He hesitates for a moment as though deciding how to respond, before tilting his head up, letting Kevin do as he wishes. It  _hurts_ , after all, and having someone besides himself take a look and asses the damage may be a good decision after all. And besides Kevin's desire to inspect the injury seems an stubborn one. Oh well. Might as well allow him to do as he wishes, at least this once.

"We can manage him." We, meaning StrexCorp, of course. "He's blinded by his emotions. Catch him when he's most vulnerable, and we can have him by the neck once again."

After a moment or two Diego draws back a little, pulling off the labcoat with a shudder. He can't even  _begin_ to imagine wearing one of those on a regular basis.

\------------------------------

 

Kevin's hands are delicate and gentle, touch butterfly-soft. He's careful to try not to hurt, brow turned down with thought and concern. "You were right." He says, brightly, after a minute. "Small break, maybe not even a  _break_ but a fracture. Still, painful I bet." His fingers whisper over Diego's cheek before they pull away, the slender form pushing up with a happy little hum. "I'll get something to help with that. At least for now." He giggles again as the labcoat is stripped, arching a brow.

"Aww, but aren't you a scientist?" He teases, slyly. "I thought it was part of the package." Coy, playful, but then that's almost his default state when he's not on the air. He's a horrible flirt and a worse tease. (Not that he often gets away with it.) He makes his way into a connecting bathroom, rummaging for painkillers; the only reason they're allowed  _those_  is also Diego. (Kevin isn't allowed to have access to pills of  _any_  kind without supervision, and the cabinet is locked when Diego isn't there. It's the same with liquor.) 

"Of course you can! I never doubted that. He just made a mistake, though, that's all. Try to remember that? I'm sure he'll come around without too much fuss." 

\-------------------------------

 

As usual, Diego doesn't actually reciprocate to Kevin's teasing; he merely takes it in as he would anything else. He makes note of it though. "It's a part of the package _if_ you're looking for a cheap stereotype of a scientist," he replies curtly, tone somewhat annoyed, although he is not actually bothered by the comment. If he minded Kevin's weird blatant flirtation, he'd have made that  _very_ clear a  _long_ time ago.  

The flannel feels itchy and gross against his skin, and Diego gets the shirt off as quickly as he can manage, folding it and placing it on the table. The voice coming from the connecting bathroom, however, makes him look up sharply.

".. _Just_ a mistake, you say?  _Just a mistake_. Do you realize how much  _trouble_ that man has caused?"

\--------------------------------

 

"And you, my dear, are a stereotypical nothing, let alone cheap. How foolish of me." Playful, sing-song.  "Nothing you couldn't handle. Though maybe with a new battle scar or two." Still teasing,  and he reappears, giving the bottle a shake of warning before he tosses it to the other man. He knows Diego won't miss; the man's got the reflexes of a cat.  He leans in the doorway, legs crossed, arms folded. He lets his gaze wander to the now-bare torso, lifts a brow approvingly. (Here is where Cecil would give a Cheshire grin, would say  _five minutes and you're already half naked, this night goes well._ and bob his brows. This is where Carlos would probably blush, and smile shyly. No such thing happens here, but that doesn't change the fact that Kevin's gaze is undeniably appreciative.) 

" _Diego_. You can't blame him for naivety." And oh, isn't that ironic. "He's always been good, hasn't he? I'm just saying I'm positive he'll come right around. Especially now, when he sees how easily Cecil's 'love' is broken." A little shrug. "I like Carlos. He's fun to play with." 

And for an instant, the grin goes from innocent and sweet to something  _wolfish_ ; all edged razors and broken glass. 

\---------------------------------

 

Diego snatches the bottle from mid-air. He taps out a few of the pills and swallows them; they leave a rather unpleasant bitter aftertaste on his tongue, but, hell, these pill's  _work_ , and so he isn't going to be picky about the specifics.

Kevin's words make him  _twitch._ Both mentally and physically.

He turns slightly, to face Kevin, eyes narrowing. There's a tension in his shoulders, him the subtle clench of his jaw.

"Do you really. Interesting." His gaze leaves Kevin for a second, and he lifts the bottle, turning it sideways to read the label, more to momentarily distract himself than anything else. "Because Cecil is surprisingly entertaining to mess with as well. I'm sure you noticed how  _spirited_ he was. Quite the fighter."

\------------------------------------

 

Blink, and then sharp anger racing across his face. That possessive glint snaps into his eyes again, jaw set, and he takes the hint. He's not stupid, but he's also still irritated, and he scored a hit. He saw it, subtle as it was, simply because he's used to reading Diego. "I did notice." He snips back, "though it was hard to see him with the way you were  _crawling all over him_." He smiles, and again it's humorless; head tipped, nasty little wicked smirk on his lips, and  _no fear_  on his face.

People are frightened of Diego. Kevin is not. Kevin refuses to be even though he knows that Diego's wrath does not exclude him.  Once, Kevin was meek and skittish; once, he barely even seemed able to care. Now there is a spark in his eyes that is very probably Diego's own fault. He doesn't move from where he's leaning, doesn't take his eyes away from Diego, but his entire frame is tense with flight-or-fight reaction. 

Not afraid, but not stupid. His pushing is either going to go the way he wants, or he's going to have to flee the godsdamn apartment. Fifty-fifty.

\-------------------------------------

 

In most people he encounters, fear is the standard; or, more accurately, it is the  _expectation._ An act of rebellion or defiance is almost never taken well. Diego likes to be  _obeyed_ , and when he isn't, he can get sort of... _unfriendly._

So it is not as though he isn't pissed off by Kevin's attitude. He is. But there's another level to it, too. Kevin is a challenge, and Diego, admittedly, refuses to back down from a challenge.

He folds his arms across his chest, not moving forward but not moving back.

"Do you have a  _problem_ with that?" His voice is lower now- smooth, deep. 

\------------------------------------

 

Kevin sees it; sees what he is looking for, under the anger, hears it in Diego's voice, and lets himself smirk. "Of  _course_  not." He purrs, "why would I have a  _problem_  with you draping yourself all over that little  _wh_ -" Pause, sweet smile. " _gentleman_  in your lab?" Blink, blink, innocent face. "After all, if he's so  _interesting_ , who am I to stop you? That would leave little me alone and bored, though." He  _almost_  says it; decides against bringing Carlos up again.

He wants this to be  _fun_ , after all, and even he knows there is only so far Diego can be pushed. 

\------------------------------------

 

As Kevin speaks, Diego quirks an eyebrow. He still needs to finish changing clothes, and so he resumes that process, removing the shoes and socks and jeans as well.

"You know that by calling Cecil names, you are, by association, calling _yourself_ that as well." 

He opens a closet, searching for something at least half _decent_ to put on.

\------------------------------------

 

Kevin actually rolls his eyes, pushes off the wall at last to saunter in. Naked Diego is not  a new site, but always, always a welcome one; though he does pout a little as the jeans slide free. Diego is typical in slacks and suit pants, which are lovely and look lovely on him, but he'd been enjoying the jeans. "Yes, my love, in about the same way that works for you and Carlos. Cecil and Kevin are not the same person." Which is true enough; they may have similarities, but they are not exact.  Still, the drawled, snarking tone of his voice is undeniably insubordinate. 

He clams Diego's previous seat on the bed, leaning back on his hands and smirking up at him. Swings his legs innocently, childishly. "Of course that could always work in someone's favor, too. Depending on what, exactly, was said.' a trace of impishness slipping into his tone now. 

\-------------------------------------

 

Kevin is not even trying to be subtle; no surprise there. Diego's not going to just give in though, that would be too  _boring_. And besides, Kevin  _always_ acts like this, so it's nothing special.

Pants -  _good pants_ , black and ironed smooth- get pulled on. He turns back to watch Kevin with some sort of peculiar amusement, almost, as he begins to button up an off-white shirt. 

"That is most likely true. Tell me, what exactly was it that you stopped yourself from calling Cecil." 

\--------------------------------------

 

A head-tilt, a blink, and he seems to be considering before- "It was a very rude word." All innocence and head-nodding good nature like he seems to be on the air.  _Mr. Blue Skies_  himself; but Diego knows him well enough to know he's not anywhere near as out of touch with reality as he often pretends. This is being difficult just to be difficult. He's chewing slightly on one nail. Where Cecil has the form-fitting old fashioned cloths, Kevin prefers big soft sweaters and over-sized long sleeved shirts; partly to hide the marks on his arms, partly simply because he's cold easily and often and enjoys the warmth, and partly because Kevin likes soft things. It hides his arm and most of his hand now, giving him a childish appearance. 

"I think you know, anyway." He goes on, after a moment. "Just what he is." 

\--------------------------------------

 

Ever since he first met Kevin, the man had been hiding his slender frame under his loose warm clothing. Kevin has a  _hideous_ fashion sense, Diego has to admit, but that doesn't change the fact that over time he has become accustomed to some of his quirks. He doesn't mind the whole childish act, at least not anymore, so long as there's nothing so pitiful as  _whining_ involved.

He lets out a soft breath. Shirt only half-buttoned, he steps closer and rests a hand on Kevin's shoulder. 

"A  _whore_?" The word comes out low, silky-smooth. "He certainly is, at least where his scientist is concerned. Even when I had him pinned down, he  _squirmed_ under my grip, and I could tell just how conflicted he was."

\----------------------------------------

 

He watches Diego loom without so much as a flinch, eyes half-lidded and flicking from face- full lips, dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin; lets his eyes follow it down to the half-revealed chest before Diego's hand is on his shoulder, and he shivers slightly at the purr of the word. 

Part of him wants to properly break Diego's nose. The rest of him wants to arch up and kiss the hell out of him. He sets his jaw, tense under the hand on his shoulder, but he doesn't pull away. Doesn't so much as twitch, in fact. "You see?" he breathes, and his eyes and heavy-lidded and dark. Then, with a furrowed brow- "Not too conflicted to break your nose." He smirks, twitchy and sharp. "You see, Diego? Standards. I thought you had them?" 

And oh, that is real snap under his tone.

\----------------------------------------

 

Diego's lips pull into a tight, hard line, at Kevin's words. "A little outburst. He didn't even fully  _succeed_." He stops - he's not going to waste his time defending himself to Kevin of all people.

He does not like being questioned. And  _does not_ like being talked down to.

The strong dark hand on Kevin's shoulder clenches.

"What makes you think that you have the right to speak to me like that." He murmurs it, and whatever gentleness he'd had is now gone.

\--------------------------------------

 

He stops. 

And he  _back-peddles_. 

He's not afraid of Diego, not by a long shot, bit at the same time he knows- he  _knows_ \- what that temper can be like. And he believes Diego loves him; he believes it with his whole heart. That doesn't mean he's exempt from the man's wrath, and he knows he  _deserves_  it this time. 

"You'll have to forgive me," He speaks, quiet and unsteady, "I'm kind of pissed that my lover was crawling all over my wanton little slut of a double." He twitches, but doesn't move again, doesn't dare touch Diego. He's on thin ice. 

 --------------------------------------

 

Diego sneers, and it'd look like more of a smirk if any amusement touched his eyes, but it doesn't. His gaze is solemn. Cold, even. His grip doesn't tighten, but, instead, he loosens it a bit, rubbing Kevin's shoulder- it's a kind of odd gesture, but it's his small way of saying that not going to snap. At least, not _yet_. 

" _You're_ pissed. Hm. Even though what I did with Cecil was out of necessity?"

\--------------------------------------

 

Oddly, he's as good at unspoken signals as Cecil is; he picks up on it and relaxes marginally, slips back into something a little more playful."Doing it was necessary.  _Enjoying_  it, on the other hand-" He replies, and lets the pout fold into his voice. Diego hates whining, so he stops there; less whine and more sulk.   He decides to stop trying to play coy, shifts so he's on his knees and rises steadily. He's still 'under' Diego; he stops just shy of rising up over head level. 

"The only person you're supposed to enjoy making beg is  _me."_ He snaps, and despite the bluntness of it, the way his  _purrs_  the words, the glint in his eyes, work it into something sly and promising. He still doesn't touch; doesn't lean in.  _Barely_  moves, just to come up to his knees, and then goes still again. 

\---------------------------------------

 

"There's nothing wrong with enjoying something just because the situation called for it."

His hand moves up a little. Fingertips brush Kevin's neck, his jaw. the skin is smooth and remarkably pale- Diego can see each small vein, blue and winding, and he remembers how that neck looks with purplish bruises blooming across it.

He cups Kevin's cheek in his hand. "You'd have liked to be in your double's place? I doubt you'd want a broken arm, though."

\----------------------------------------

 

Kevin leans into the hand like a kitten or a puppy; he enjoys pain, enjoys bring punished, but he's outright starved for affectionate touch, soaks up any and every hint of it. He can't even stay angry, jealous; not when he wants that soft touch so badly. He's smart enough to never try to force it, but sometimes when Diego touches gently or softly Kevin will actually _tremble_.

"Would you?" He murmurs, half lidded eyes searching Diego's face.  "Hurt me, so badly?  I don't think so. I'm much more fun in one piece. " He grins, catlike.  He knows the hand could, at any moment, go for his throat, cut off his air and leave him, helpless, squirming, pinned under his bigger lover, utterly at his mercy or lack thereof.

He feels no fear. Not now.

\------------------------------------------

 

Diego knows all too well how the gentle contact affects him. He keeps his hand cupping Kevin's cheek, and bends down, minimally, so that their faces are a few inches apart. Against his skin, he can feel the warm breath that is exhaled. His lover's body language tends to be pretty straightforward.

"I would if I had to," he whispers, and then gives a small smirk, "but you're right. You  _are_ much more fun in one piece."

For a moment, he hesitates. As though considering what to do.

And then he brushes Kevin's white-blond bangs out of his eyes, as he might a child. 

"Interesting. That's one important difference between you and your double; he is very afraid, whereas you are...hnn. I don't think this is  _bravery_ , per se. What is it."

\----------------------------------------

 

Kevin  closes his eyes slightly, ducks his head under the touch like a pleased animal. He blushes prettily, softly, He knows better then to say it's love; Diego doesn't react well to sentiment, and not in the fun way. It's the quickest way to get rid of the soft touch, the intimacy here, and he wants it to linger. Besides, it's a stupid half truth. 

Yes, it is partly love that keeps him from being afraid of Diego. It is  _hardly_  the only thing. He smirks, closes the distance between them, presses a light kiss to Diego's lips. It's soft, sweet, and utterly playful. "Could be  _anything_." He purrs, pulling back just enough to speak. Then, with an amused eyebrow- "Are you psychoanalyzing me right  _now_ , Diego?" But it's playful, teasing, and honestly he enjoys it. He likes the sound of Diego's voice. "Maybe," He whispers, "just between you and me, lover, _maybe_  I've run my gamut of pain. And just  _maybe_  I just like it when the hurt feels  _good_ , for a change." 


	2. See What I've Done to You

The kiss doesn't surprise him, but he lets Kevin be the one to do it, lets him keep it simple and cute. 

The scientist remembers when most of the broadcaster's pain did  _not_ feel good. When he was always a complete wreck, on either one substance or another or something else entirely, incredibly upbeat or unbelievably low or talking about things that made absolutely no sense. When the marks on his skin were newer, redder, and when the rest of his body was sickly pale from lack of sustenance and lack of sunlight. 

He remembers how Kevin had whispered into his ear that  _he_ made the world feel real again.

It made sense, why the man would want a change. 

And as always, he is all too willing to  _give_ him that change. Though for his own, personal reasons. Not that it matters. Diego gets what he wants, and Kevin gets what Kevin wants as long as it coincides with Diego's wishes.

Diego trails one hand up, through Kevin's hair again, around the back of his skull, to rest firmly at the nape of his neck. "Do you, now." He says it with blatant sarcasm. He knows what he likes, of course he does.

 ----------------------------

 

He butts into the hand- needy, desperate, lets out a slow breath when it locks around the back of his neck. Whines softly, and it's a mixture of sounds and desires both. "I do." He breathes, lips twitching slightly, anger rushing away like it never had been. "And you love every minute." And he knows that's true, too. Diego likes power. He likes control. He likes causing  _hurt_. With Kevin, it's never  _serious_  hurt unless he deserves it. And he has, sometimes; and Diego is always so  _forgiving_ , after he's been punished. 

He lets Kevin come back, after all.  No matter how badly he fucks up, no matter how many times he jumps wrong, Diego takes him  _back._

He doesn't deserve it. 

\---------------------------

 

"I absolutely do." He smiles, just a tiny bit, at the quiet sounds that Kevin makes. Diego doesn't really smile - not like his double does at least, no wide grins or laugh lines. Just this, a little quirk of his lips, his eyes unaffected. That is as close as he is willing to come.

Taking his time, Diego tilts his head to the side and presses his lips to  his lover's neck, just below the jawline. He lingers and savors that taste, for a moment, before withdrawing just long enough to push Kevin backward onto the bed. "At least you can admit what you  _like_ . Many people are so indirect and shy about that sort of thing."

\---------------------------

 

"Now, where's the fun in  _that_ ? Demure meekness is so dull." He laughs, tumbles backwards with the shove and beams up at Diego. The feeling of lips on his skin, soft and lingering, stays with him, skin goosepimpling slightly. He loves it when Diego is rough, but he loves it when he's  _not_ , too; when he takes his time, drives Kevin mad by inches. Keeps him wanting and  _needing_  for as long as he wants, explores him like he's  _learning_  him, like it's the first time he's ever seen Kevin. Like he is mapping every spot that gets every reaction, for later use.

"My way of looking at it, if you can't admit what you like- what you  _want_ \- then you don't deserve to have it." He purrs. "So it's not hard for me to tell you exactly what I want you to do to me. Me and   _only_  me. But then, I don't have to- you already know. And there are so many more   _interesting_  things to do with my mouth." 

\----------------------------

 

Diego follows him a second later, straddling him, hands around Kevin's forearms - not unlike what he had done to Cecil earlier. There's something slightly different to it this time, though. It's not just brutality. It's not that he is being nicer, this time, either. Somehow, in a difficult-to-notice incredibly-subtle way, the way he is treating Kevin is more _sensual_. He's taking in every little detail.

He scoffs, almost jokingly, though with him it can be difficult to tell what is joking and  what is not. "And you call _Cecil_ the _whore_?  Take a good long look at yourself."

\-----------------------------

 

No offense colors his expression; no anger. He just laughs, soft and airy, because he knows Diego well enough to know when it is alright, when it is  _fine_ , when he is being what passes for playful. "That's just mean." He replies, eyes half-lidded and heavy, and he is calm and relaxed under Diego; nothing like Cecil's tense panic. He is as comfortable. in this moment, as he would be anywhere else. There are some scientists and interns that whisper about them, whisper that Kevin is either insane or brave or both, to have so little fear of the man he calls lover. 

"Would you rather me not?" He adds, with obviously false offense. "I could always put up a little font for you.  _Oh, no, stop please_ -" And it's not high and absurdly mocking. It's...pretty realistic, actually, as is the way he abruptly tenses, strains against the hands holding him. "Don't, get off me-" And he drops it. 

Grins.  One eyebrow lifts.  _Pick your poison_. 

Kevin is very good at filling any role. He seems to enjoy it, too; changing how he behaves depending on one or both of their whims. 

\-------------------------------

 

He has to admit that Kevin is  _superb_ when it comes to playing any role. He's incredibly convincing, to the point that, sometimes, when the protests and struggling have taken a slight turn and become  _genuine..._  Diego barely notices the difference.

The fact that they've never had a safeword says a lot about their relationship. Both literally and figuratively.

This time, he's more interested in seeing what Kevin's reflexive role becomes than straightforwardly selecting one for him. He  brings his head down lower to kiss his lover, hard and deep, then taking the man's lower lip between his teeth.

\-------------------------------

 

Kevin moans softly into the kiss, and the fight melts out of his limbs, dropping the act. Fighting against Diego is almost never his default state;he might come back with aggression, but never violence, and that's how he reacts now. The return kiss is heated and demanding, all jealous and possessiveness,  a reminder that he's still not over the incident with Cecil. He arches up slightly to rub against Diego's body like a cat, long and slow, tasting the copper tang of blood, smelling the cologne that isn't quite right; it's too cheap. He smells like Carlos; Kevin wrinkles his nose lightly. At least the  _clothes_  smell right. The touch feels right. 

He whines softly as teeth graze his lower lip, and now he does tense again, wanting his hands back, wanting to touch. The struggle is half-hearted, though; for the moment, he seems content to let Diego claim his role without much fight. 

\--------------------------------

 

The incident with Cecil had been thrilling. In the way that most new things are thrilling, and because, even though he looks like Kevin, his struggling and hatred were so much more than what Kevin usually gave him.

And besides. Cecil hadn't been psychologically broken yet. Unlike his double, who was already a wreck when Diego met him.

However, Kevin's compliance, no matter how secondary to the actions themselves, is appreciated.

Diego releases his grip. He moves his hands up Kevin's arms, wanting the bulkiness of the sweater to not be in the way, goddamn baggy clothing was something he'd never understood. He pulls back from Kevin's lips and "Off," he growls.

\-------------------------------

 

Kevin lets out a low  _haah_  of breath, his head cocking slightly before his lips curl up, slow, and he murmurs a sweet, surprisingly low  _"Yes, sir_ ." With a playful glint to his eye. Semi-playful, anyway; the rest of him completely means it, and he intentionally takes his time, working the over-sized sweater off. By inches, the pale, pale skin is revealed. Kevin isn't exactly super-model material, but he's better then he  _was_ ; years ago, you could count ribs. Now he's still undernourished and thin, but there's more muscle definition, more weight to him.  Freckles dot his flesh, and he is free and clear of Cecil's wild tattoos; Kevin only has one or two compared to the plethora that race along his counterpart's long frame.  In place of them there are the scars; varied in size, shape, type. Some are self-inflicted wounds, some from needles, some that have obviously been done  _to_  him. 

There are one or two that are from Diego.  Those are the only ones Kevin  _likes_. 

He tosses the soft material lightly to one side, blushing faintly; no matter how many times they do this, he's always a little self-conscious, if you give him a chance to be. Tilts his head and waits for Diego's next move, following his lead as in everything else. 

\-----------------------------

 

He knows all of the scars that marks Kevin's skin. By touch alone he can find each and every one, and can recognize them with his fingertips, his lips, his tongue. There are the thin ones, hair-thin raised darts, and wider ones with smooth stretched scar tissue. Every kind imaginable. In comparison to this impressive array, the ones of Diego's doing seem minor. Burns, merely third-degree. Pinkish scars, shiny-smooth, and honestly not as impressive as they _could_ have been.

"There is no point in getting embarrassed over yourself," Diego mutters. "I have seen you unclothed a ridiculous number of times already." He leans forward again, over Kevin, searching the dark eyes for an explanation.

\-----------------------------

 

Diego  _looms_. He does it in day-to-day life; he does it in private. Kevin's eyes flick away on instinct, skittishly; he knows he's the farthest thing from  _attractive_ , in the traditional sense, all scars and bones and pale skin, and Diego has never shown disgust- but he hates being bared and inspected all the same. 

He doesn't answer. Diego doesn't want to hear it. It's stupid and asinine and childish. Instead, he reaches up to pull his glasses off, playfully plopping them on top of Diego's head- he'd normally rest them on the bigger man's nose, but it's  _sort_  of broken. He giggles, and it's just a little strained. "Oh, talk dirty to me." He teases, and his fingers brush, idly, over the little streaks of silver at Diego's temples. Pretty.  One of the things he likes best. His fingers curl in the hair, gentle, explorative, thoughtful. Slow touches, brushing over his face and petting down his neck. The eyes unfocus a little, as he does; loosing himself in the simple sensation of touch. Grounding himself, in an odd way. His lips curve up slightly, and he cants his head, fingers catching and knocking the glasses slightly askew. 

\----------------------------

 

The corner of Diego's lips twitch a bit; it's a hint of a dark smirk, lingering just below the surface. He allows Kevin to touch his face, his hair, and meanwhile he studies Kevin's expression.

He murmurs, voice deep and smooth and resonant, eyes narrowed to dark slits, "I can tell you how I feel about your scars. How I dislike the idea that anyone other than myself would mark your flesh. How they are proof or your heightened pain tolerance and your masochism. How the scars are proof that you can withstand quite a lot, and how that brings me to wonder  _just how much_ you can withstand."

\---------------------------

 

Kevin let out a slow, shaky breath, closes his eyes at the words, the low rumble of Diego's voice. He shivers, slightly, lips parted, and a smile curving them up slow- that same wolfish grin from before. This time, though, it's all for Diego; focused on him, sharp and cutting. Real pleasure, real desire. 

Whatever Kevin thinks of his old scars, he does  _love_  the marks Diego leaves. They make him  _owned;_ the pleasure-pain makes him  _real_ , alive, lingers for days as a dull sting and he can  _press_  and feel and  _remember_ . "You scientests," He purrs out with a giggle that  _does not fit_  the smile on his face, "so  _curious_ . Thus far, darling, I have yet to be pushed." It's a challenge, plain and clear, loud as a shout, and his eyes dance with something dark and needy.  _Prove me wrong_. 

\--------------------------

 

That wolfish grin is something that he, of course, immediately recognizes. It is teasing, sure, but there is nothing artificial about it. Just genuine  _want_ and the pleasure of imagining what could happen in the immediate future. Something that Diego has seen countless times.

 But, this time, the preposition is more clear than ever. This isn't just subtle wording or movements or eye contact - this invitation is  _blunt_. 

 This is an _opportunity_.

 "Could be fun." Diego held still for a moment, like he was about to make a move... but pulled back, instead,  sliding off the bed and moving to the dresser.

 --------------------------

 

Kevin cocked his head, rolled over onto one elbow to watch Diego with confused curiosity. His eyes were narrowed, but it was pure curiosity. "Diego?" Lazy call, no concern, no alarm. 

 Funny, how much Kevin  _trusted_  Diego. He sprawled out in a lazy stretch, back arching slightly, hands tracing idly along his own stomach. He looked almost bored, if not for the spark of intrigue in his eye, if not for the way that edged smile stayed locked in place. He was eager, wanting, and playful; any anger over the incident with Cecil seemed to have faded into the background of his mind. 

 Right now all that mattered was whatever Diego was planning on doing. 

 ---------------------------

 

Diego doesn't reply. He opens up the top drawer and  begins to rifle through it.

 This is unlike how most people would rifle through a dresser drawer for a number of reasons. First, his drawers, like everything else of his, were meticulously organized. Second, the rifling around was careful, as he wasn't looking for something so much as he was making a decision of _what_ he wanted.

 Third, whatever things were in there were making hollow _clank_ ing sounds against the wooden bottom of the drawer, which indicated that the drawer was _definitely not full of clothes_.

 Eventually, he pulls something out and closes the drawer. Diego moves to the edge of the bed, raising one hand, and then _click_ \- he shows Kevin the small switchblade, shining and looking - although one should never assume such things - unused.

\---------------------------

 

Kevin's eyes widen slightly, breath catching in his throat. His eyes flashed with a plethora of emotions; excitement, desire, and a trace of  _fear_. He looks up, meets Diego's eyes and licks his lips nervously.  _Nervously_. Kevin is...on edge. It's a sign that he's not completely lost in his own mind; he damn well knows how dangerous that is.  

 But he doesn't pull away, doesn't flinch. After a moment, his expression softens into interest. He reaches up- watches Diego, close, watching for signs and clues and hints of what he should do, watching for any hint that he's doing  _wrong_. He touches the edge of the blade and  _pushes_  down, doesn't so much as hiss as it bites into the pad of his finger. Slides it, long and slow, drawing a jagged wound across his own finger. Red stains the pristine silver, and black, black eyes lift to Carlos's own. 

 "Pretty." 

 -------------------------

 

Diego watches, as always. Kevin is _not_ doing wrong. In fact, Diego is rather pleased by the way that Kevin brings his own finger down the blade, not cringing, how flinching, not whimpering. Whatever that flicker of fear had been, it had been overridden by the man's desire to obey, to be appreciated, to please.

 "Very," he says softly and meets Kevin's infinitely-dark eyes as a single drop of blood drips down the blade and falls onto the sheet, blooming into the weave of the fabric.

 It reminds him of his own blood, drawn by this man's double. 

 Diego looks down. His expression twitches for a mere fraction of a second, before going almost back to his neutral serious one. Almost. But not quite.

 ------------------------

 

"Diego." But it's not a command; simply a quiet request, soft and neutral. He doesn't touch his lover; but his voice is coaxing. He doesn't have Cecil's deep, smooth radio voice; but the sound is still intoxicating, when he wants it to be, fluid and rich, mellow, and when accompanied by the way he licks the blood off the blade, slow, lazy- fearlessly takes it into his mouth- it is...quite an attention grabber. 

 He pulls back from the knife. Reaches up to slowly, gently, carefully, takes the wrist holding the knife. Nuzzles into it. Kisses it. The blade brushes over the skin of his cheek by his own actions and he still doesn't so much as flinch away. Whether it's lack of fear or simply desire to please- or enjoyment of it...is hard to say. 

 -------------------------

 

That behavior is interesting. Whatever it is that Diego does or doesn't feel about Kevin, he definitely does find him interesting, scientifically-speaking. Kevin is a tangle of hypocrisy and paradoxes. Feels pain, and loves it. Feels fear, and keeps coming back. Feels the need for a stable person to anchor him, and ends up choosing someone nearly as neuro-atypical as (and far more of a dangerous than) himself.

 "Mm." The rest of his body still, Diego twists his wrist a little, the blade pressing lightly against the side of Kevin's cheekbone, and then giving a small nick- just a narrow red line, barely breaking the skin, enough to sting but not enough to drip.

 --------------------------

 

Kevin lets out a tiny hiss now, but it's more for show then real pain; closes his eyes and goes very, very still. His show stops, his eyes close, and only after nothing else happens does he move to gently shift, careful, against the blade touching his skin. Makes a tiny little mewing sound in the base of his chest, a wordless plea. 

 Perhaps that love of pain was exactly why he stayed with Diego. Maybe it was that need for danger, for a way to injure himself that no longer involved inflicting his  _own_  wounds. 

 Or maybe he just honestly believed Diego loved him. 

 ------------------------

 

Diego raises his brows slightly.

 He brings his empty hand up to cup the other side of Kevin's head, thumb rubbing tenderly over the edge of his ear in such a fashion that could be mistaken for _affectionate_.

 His voice is soft, maybe even gentle. "Is that what you want? For people to be able to _see_ what I have done to you?" He knows that Kevin merely wants the pain (at least consciously) but he is curious, and, well, he has his own motives too. "I could mark you in places no one besides you and myself would ever see. Or I could let the world see exactly _what_ kind of person you are."

 -------------------------

 

Kevin mews again, leaning, as ever, into the hand, into the touch that could so easily be fond. He shivers at the words, smiles slowly, a smirk that touches his eyes. "I don't give a flying  _fuck_  what people think of what kind of person I am, Diego." He whispers, in a rasp, "Show them who I  _belong to_." And then Kevin leans into the blade, forces it into his skin. 

 If it scars, it will be faint, light, but there will be a mark there for  _days_  or more. Kevin closes his eyes, sucks in a sharp breath, shudders. There is no denying that he likes the pain, the thought of being marked and scared and the world seeing and  _knowing_  and- 

 and the idea of being scarred on the face would scare most people. But not Kevin. 

 ---------------------------

 

The handle shifts subtly in his hand from the added pressure, and Diego tightens his grip. A single drop of deep red slips out from under the blade. It trails down Kevin's cheek, looking nearly black in comparison to the pallor of his skin.

 Diego presses a little harder, savoring the words that Kevin had spoken.

  _Show them who I_ belong _to_.

 Damn right he would.

 A quick near-vertical flick of his wrist. Not a deep cut, no, but tiny blood beads rise in a sharp line forward and down the side of Kevin's face.

 ---------------------------

 

Kevin gasped, now, half surprise, half pain; more surprise. It stung more then  _hurt_ ; the blade was wickedly sharp, and he closes his eyes, riding out the flash of pain, feeling the blood roll down his cheek like tears. His exhale was slow, measured, and silent. Locking any whine or whimper behind his throat. Diego didn't  _like_  those noises; he liked it when Kevin egged him on, but he didn't like  _whining_ , and Kevin wanted this to be right. 

 Wanted to be good. 

 Such  _drastic_  mood swings were hardly uncommon, in the younger man; Kevin would often go from passionately angry to meek as a kitten in the span of heartbeats. And now he seemed to forget he was ever jealous, in favor of simply wanting to  _please_. 

 To enjoy. 

 His eyes opened, locked onto Diego's.  _Trusting_. So  blindly trusting. Didn't move, Didn't twitch. Just  _waited_ , like a good boy.

 ---------------------------

 

In the time that they had known each other, Kevin had come so far. He used to protest too much, to whine or to complain too much. He used to do those sorts of pitiful, disgusting behaviors, back before he knew better.

 Diego had taught him what was acceptable, though, and what was... less so.

 After a long moment of stillness, of silence, of silence, Diego's lips stretched into a small tight-lipped smirk, and he gave a small nod of approval. 

 -----------------------------

 

Kevin smiled, pleased,  _proud_ , like a dog responding to praise. It was amazing- and, to an outside eye, perhaps heartbreaking- how he lit up at the show of approval, how he melted in happiness, reached up to lightly, exploratively, touch the cut on his own cheek. Ran his finger along the raised skin with a little shiver of pleasure. He wondered, if he picked at it enough, if it would scar. 

 He'd like that. 

 Rather then wipe the blood away he simply licked his own fingers clean, slow, lingering motions, the cut stinging with each one. The sliced finger, too, though he'd almost seemed to forget he cut it; he whimpered, just a little, at the unexpected sting, blinking in what seemed like honest surprise, brow furrowing. Annoyance. Disappointment in himself. 

 -----------------------------

 

It was that  _pride_ and pure unfiltered  _joy_ that radiated from Kevin that Diego found useful. He'd not only learned how to trigger those feelings in the other man, but how to comb and train him until 'how to trigger those feelings' consisted of precisely what it was that Diego wanted to do. It was the need for that pleasure - amongst many, many other things - that had kept Kevin coming home time and time again. 

 That whimper, though.  _That is a problem_.

 Diego inhales sharply. He takes one of Kevin's shoulders in hand and leans forward a little, pressing against him.

 "Oh..and you were doing  _so well_ ," he murmurs in a rumbling, low tone, and the cold edge of the blade presses against a collarbone.

 -----------------------------

 

For a split second, the fear registered in his eyes; it was an oddly excited kind of emotion.  He was scared but he trusted Diego too much to be  _truly_  frightened. Maybe that was his error; God only knew  _why_  he seemed to have such unwavering faith in his lover. Why it was he seemed  _so confident_  that Diego would never  _truly_  hurt him. 

 Or maybe he just had become so unstable that pain and pleasure were indistinguishable from each other. Maybe it was less trust, and more simply needing to  _fill_  something; an itch that needed scratched. 

 Still, that was alarm, and his lips parted as if to protest- then stopped. Bit down on the lower one, closed his eyes. Beared his throat. 

 Waited to be punished. 

 

 

 

 ----

 

 

 

 

The sheets were ruined. No surprise there.

 The blood had soaked deep into the fabric overnight. This was nothing unusual (at least not to Diego), and so the scientist had made a call to order new sheets and pillowcases first thing in the morning. 

 Only to be abruptly interrupted by  _sirens._

And a voice on the intercom demanding that he report immediately to the command center. Because  _this is not a drill._

  _\-----------------------_

 

Hours later saw Kevin curled into a small ball, his clothes, like the sheets around them, stained with blood, on a pile on the floor. He slept a deep, exhausted sleep; even when the alarms went off, it took a long moment for his eyes to open, groggy and fuzzy, took too long to focus. As if he'd been more unconscious then asleep; in reality, he probably  _was_. He blinked once, twice, let out a tiny whine at the sheer volume of sound assaulting ears and a mind not only not fully awake but weakened and heavy. Instantly seemed to realize and cut the sound off in his throat. 

"Diego?" Barely audible over the noise from the sirens, but getting stronger as he sat up gingerly. The pale flesh was marred with vicious red blemishes;carefully placed, and some deeper then others. It made moving painful and  he was visibly shaky, hands clumsy as he worked at the blanket to try and untangle himself, a little grimace wrinkling his nose at the feel and smell of the blood.  "What the hell- what's happened?" 

\----------------------

 

Diego is dressing himself quickly as possible, and he glances up sharply when Kevin spoke, seemingly offended. The sirens are a loud and offensive noise and he  _hates_ them, but, eh, what can he do about that.

"They're escaping."

He  _spits_ the words as though they taste disgusting in his mouth. Switchblade from last night is slipped into his back pocked; one can never be too safe.

\--------------------------------

 

" _What_?" Not yelped; it's surprisingly calm. He bristles, like a cat, then- "that little  _bitch_." and there's no needing to guess who he means. Weakness is forgotten in favor of kicking free the blankets, and his black, black eyes are coldly furious. 

It's not Cecil. He doesn't really  _care_  about Cecil. It's that someone is doing something Diego does not want. Someone is putting his Diego in potential danger. Someone has  _angered him_. 

And that someone is a challenger, someone Diego would take and break and use, and Diego is  _his_. 

He doesn't care the clothes are yesterday's. Doesn't care that they are stained with blood. He grabs them anyway. It's strange; he doesn't even seem to _feel_  the wounds anymore, though he staggers when he gets out of the bed, legs wanting to give out for a moment. 

It doesn't show in his face. Nothing does. 

"The hell he is." 

Kevin, when not under Diego's thumb, can be quite terrifying.  And at the moment, he is a pit bull on a leash, waiting to be pointed and told to kill. 

\------------------------------------

 

"My thoughts precisely." 

 Having grown accustomed to being needed at all unusual hours of the day, Diego is dressed within a minute, full suit except for not having on a tie. He pulls up a jacket with one graceful motion, and then pauses, turning. 

 His gaze isn't light or fleeting. It is dark and solemn; it is  _not_ the gaze of someone you might doubt, or, even worse,  _question._

"Go." 

 A quick flick of his hand, indicative of the direction toward the central area of the building. "I am needed in command."

 ------------------------------------

 

Kevin nods, once, doesn't even pause to kiss or touch. His hand brushes, lightly, once, over the back of Diego's as he goes by; affectionate and soft. 

 His fingers are caked in his own blood. 

 And then Kevin is moving at a quick pace towards the main area; moving, fearlessly, in the direction everyone else is running away  _from_. Despite the fact that he could barely stand only a moment ago, in a few strides he is jogging, and then  _sprinting._

A simple word from Diego, and he would fall back. But Kevin is not stupid and he is  _not_  useless. 

 He knew where to find weapons, and he knew how to use them.


	3. Locked Behind His Throat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRIEF SIDENOTE: The events that transpire in chapter 18 of Sulfuric Sky (which is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1542185/chapters/3869476)) occurs just before this chapter.  
> If you're lazy and don't want to read it, here is basically what happened:
> 
> Kevin fought against Cecil and Carlos (as Diego had instructed), but ultimately Kevin was injured and knocked unconscious, and Cecil and Carlos escaped.

  
\-----------------------------------------

 

\-----------------

 

 Everything went wrong within a very short span of time.

 In the central offices, all of the most high-ranking StrexCorp officials had been gathered to try and manage this catastrophe. Diego himself, furious and pacing, is barking orders into a mic and only getting panic and static in response. 

 The stats and couple remaining functional security cams, live feed up on the display screens, aren't any more reassuring.

 Nothing is how Diego  _wants_. This is  _not good._

 And then Kevin's stats spike.

 

 

 

 

 

Diego doesn't go to the medical ward until he is assured that nothing else can be done.

\-----------------------------------

 

By the time Diego heads towards Kevin, by the time everything has begun to calm and settle down, the man is awake. 

 Awake, but only semi-lucid. The blows he took from that  _creature_  lurking inside Cecil's mind and body were not unlike getting hit by a car; broken wrist, broken ribs, concussion, bruised spine- and all incredibly lucky it wasn't much, much worse. Kevin is tough, though, and knows how to take a hit; still. Still, he is in no small amount of pain, and it is the head injury that gives them the most concern. Not physically, but because Kevin is  _fighting like a caged wolverine_. Biting, scratching, clawing, he punches and kicks and his  _shrieks_  can be heard echoing up and down the halls. He's so badly hurt he should barely be able to move, but the second he's aware he's fighting them. 

 And he is  _strong_. 

 He leaves behind a broken nose, a gouged eyeball, one man clutching at a heavily bleeding bite wound in his neck and another with a broken wrist. Kevin himself is under a cot, he' in a ball, rigid with pain, rocking himself with good hand in his hair and babbling under his breath. It is, for all intents and purposes, a full mental collapse, and the patient in question unpredictable and dangerous. 

 So of course Diego is called. 

\----------------------------------

 

He's briefed before entering the room, of course. Partially for his own safety (he is armed, just in case.) And also partially because, as Kevin's handler, it is his duty to know all that the subject has done, whether good or bad or otherwise.

 The summation of the damage done and the damage caused only causes Diego to let out a soft sigh through his nostrils. This lack of response doesn't surprise the agent giving the briefing. Everyone knows Diego well enough by now to not question his lack of reactions.

 He enters the room, and closes the door behind him. 

 " _Kevin._ "

 The name sounds unfamiliar in his mouth - he usually avoids saying it. He usually avoids names in general.

\-----------------------------------

 

The answer is a  _whimper_. It comes from two cots down, high, a keening whine. "Leave me  _alone_." Is rasped out, a desperate, tight demand. Then, quickly; "Sorrysorrysorrysorry." In quick succession, low, almost a chant. He sounds frightened and tiny and he's obviously been crying, throat locked with tears. "I didn't mean to." 

And it hurts. Physically, it hurts; everything hurts. But mentally, too; he can hear Diego's exasperation, his annoyance, and he feels like he is going to split in two. Half of him wants to crawl out and beg forgiveness for failing so spectacuarly. Part of him wants to run and run away, because he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. Part of him- 

-part of him that is normally silent- 

_hated_  Diego. 

Hated Diego for making him feel like this. 

 Hates them all. 

 And that's bad. It's bad. Hating is bad they're  _good_  they took care of him and they fixed him and Diego loves him he  _loves him_  

  _Nohedoesn't._  

 he loves him. 

 He keens again, pressing his face into his arm. "He loves me." He whispers. "He loves me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

\-------------------------------------

 

He can hear the confliction in Kevin's voice. The physical strain. The  _emotions_. He hasn't moved from where he is by the door, standing, hands in pockets. From where he is he can see Kevin's feet, just barely, but that is all.

 Diego clears his throat.

 "Come out where I can see you."

\-------------------------------------

 

Pause. Sniffle.   
  
He wants so desperately for there to be  _something_  in that voice. To be held, to be  _comforted_ , to be told he is good and it is alright and he is loved.   
  
 _I don't need it. He loves me. He loves me, he's just angry, I messed up and he's angry and I deserve it._   _I know he loves me_.   
  
Uncurling is hard. Adrenaline had gotten him under there, and it's worn off now. It's a long few minutes before he can drag himself out, trying hard to keep his cries of pain locked behind his throat.   
  
Diego doesn't like whining, Diego doesn't like whining, Shhh. 

 He pushes to his feet with skin pale as paper and throat tight with the yell that wants to escape. He's swaying, legs splayed like a deer as he fights for balance, pupils mismatched and body hunched and trembling. 

"I know." He whispers, eyes locked on the floor. "I'm sorry. I can fix it. I can do better. I can make it better. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."   
  
 _what did you do wrong?_

  _You tried._

**_Not good enough_. **

**\-------------------------------**

 

Kevin's entire slender frame is trembling, swaying slightly as though he is being buffeted by some wind that impacts him and him alone.

His skin has lost any coloration it had previously had- it is near grayish. Not unlike how it had looked way back then, when they'd met.

 "You know," Diego says softly, tonelessly, "they've escaped. You can't fix this. Orders from on high are that we're pulling out, withdrawing our forces."

\-------------------------------------

 

Kevin blinks, seems to  _shrink_. He's so tall, Kevin, as tall as Cecil, taller then Diego, but he seems to  _tiny_  in that moment. He tugs at the hem of one oversized-sleeve, at the base of his sweater with his good hand, shoulders hunched. His eyes well with tears and he closes them, fights against it with all his might.   
  
He's so scared. Diego only ever hurts him when he deserves it, but he  _deserves_  it, and he's so scared about what is about to happen. Diego is angry. Is furious. Is probably disgusted by him, how pathetic he is, how stupid. He's ruined everything, ruined everything, should have been better. Done better. 

 _You can't fix this_. 

He sucks in a breath that trembles. 

_He's going to_ **leave** _. He'll leave because I fucked everything up._

_If he loved you, he wouldn't_. 

"I-I-I'm sorry." It's so tiny, and he steps back, once, twice. His legs hit the back of the bed and he goes down, folds like a house of cards.  _You can't fix this_ . 

_I should have killed them. Killed them all, better then let them walk away_ - 

 "I underesti- I didn't- I- I'm sorry." Broken record. He's stuck. He cringes, tries to make himself smaller still. 

\-----------------------------------------

 

A few seconds and now Kevin is a trembling heap on the floor, waiting for his punishment, for a response, rage, reassurance, _anything_.

 Diego inhales through clenched teeth. His eyes close.

 "This was our chance to deal with those two once and for all. We are not going to get another opportunity anytime soon. If ever."

 He clasps his hands behind his back, and takes a few steps forward. No more than a stride from Kevin now. Through slitted eyes he looks down at the broadcaster.

 "You are scared of me. But how am I supposed to believe that you are actually _sorry_ for what you have done?"

\-----------------------------------------

 

 _You're scared of me_. 

He's not sure  _why_  those words hurt. Maybe because part of him knows-  _knows_ \- he shouldn't be. Part of him, the part that's normally quiet, is hissing that you shouldn't  _be afraid_  of someone who is supposed to love you. 

But he hushes that part, firmly, because Diego has every right to be furious at him. He has every right to punish him, to leave him- 

-this wasn't a minor slip up. 

He's not sure how to answer the question. The sting of tears he was fighting back escapes, and he shakes his head helplessly, wiping them away on his good arm. He's still silent in his crying; learned silence. Trained. 

"I'm-" His voice breaks, and it's  _not_  fear. Not just fear, anyway. It's shame. It's disappointment in himself. He failed. He let Diego down. 

 _I tried_. 

It slips out without permission. Utterly and totally without his permission-  _I tried,_ in a tiny little murmur. Everything hurts- his head is _throbbing_  and pounding and screaming at him, and his wrist aches, and he can't  _breathe_  with the tears and his wounded ribs and back and every gasped inhale sends waves of agony. "I am sorry, I am. Love, I am. I'll find a way to fix it. I'll do anything. Please."  _Please don't go don't leave me don't hate me._

_\------------------------------------------_

 

Diego watches.

 Sender frame and bony contours, mostly obscured by oversized sweaters with absurd patterns. Nearly colorless skin, mostly obscured by slashes of pinkish or tannish criss-crossing scar tissue. White-blond mop of usually well-behaved hair. High cheekbones, thin lips. Bottomless eyes. _Bottomless_. The kind of bottomless that feels to some people as if it's sucking their soul out of them.

 Kevin's not unattractive.

 He _is_ , however, Diego's, and in Diego's eyes he's not merely a useful tool. He's a pretty plaything. 

 And no one says that toying with subjects can't be _useful_ , too, right?

 Diego kneels, and he's close to Kevin, so, _so_ close, but _not quite touching_.

 "You should take some time," he whispers in a low voice, almost sounding gentle, "to think about this. And _I_ need some time to think about _you_."

\------------------------------------------

 

He can't stay quiet. The sob is soft, almost inaudible, but not silent, and he presses his mouth into his sleeve to muffle it. He trembles softly, hides his face and arches away from the impossible gentleness in Diego's voice. That breaks him more than anything- no yelling, no anger or rage or retribution; Diego is  _disappointed_. 

He knows better than to argue. His stomach bottoms out and his chest is squeezing tighter and tighter, he can't  _breathe_ , but he knows better than to argue even as badly as he wants to beg, to plead.  He tries to curl into a ball and cries out, ribs and back snarling punishment. He nods. Nods because he can't speak, not around his gasps for air and the quiet sobs. Can't trust himself not to demand to know  _why_  and plead with him to stop, to forgive, to understand there was no way he could have- 

_There was every way. You just fucked up._

To Diego, Kevin is a toy. To Kevin, Diego is  _everything_. 

There is nothing else worth trying for. Nothing else keeping him together. There is only the  _blistering_  reminder that he is useless, that he is good at nothing except sitting in a studio booth reading what he is told to read, that he is utterly unworthy the time and effort of caring for. 

He doesn't seem aware of the way he's scratching at his own skin, picking, nails carving deep grooves in the flesh. Doesn't even seem to feel it. 

He wants to reach out. Wants to grab Diego and cling, to be  _held_. 

But that is for person who deserve it. People who deserve someone like Diego. So instead he nods, nods, nods, and tries to hide in the over-sized sweater.

\--------------------------------------------

 

Although Diego is not literally taking notes at the moment, he might as well be. Nothing that Kevin does -  none of those twitches or movements or struggles for control over his own body - goes unnoticed. It is all data and potentially useful, and so he stores it all in his mind for future reference.

 And then he slowly, calmly, pushes himself up to his feet. 

 "..You do, however, require first aid. No matter how  _poorly_  you have done, this..." he makes a vague and somewhat disgusted gesture toward Kevin's hunched body. "..won't do. I'd rather you not become crippled."

\---------------------------------------------

 

And then, there it is.   
  
The shake of his head. 

 _No_. 

It is subtle, but oh, it is impossible not to notice. 

And then again. 

 _No_. 

His good hand fists on the pillow. Knuckles go white. 

" _Leave me alone_." It's the same hiss that it was before, but now his voice is no longer desperate but a low, lethal snarl. It's impossible to say who the venom in it is aimed at, but there it is. It's more likely it's internalized then outward, knowing Kevin; but when he opens his eyes, he's  _glaring_. 

There is so much in that pale stare. Too much. 

"Leave me alone. Leave me alone, all of you  _leave me alone_." And those sharp, sharp teeth bearing in a snarl.   
  
Something almost audibly shatters behind those eyes before the broken wrist is driven down, taking Kevin's full weight. He doesn't react, just pushes up on it, the bone bending at sickening, wrong angles. " _Leave me alone! Get out!"_

 --------------------------------------------

 

He stops.

 And for the first time since they've met, something genuine - other than anger - flickers across his face.

 Diego is  _startled_.

 He recovers his cold solemn exterior within a second, and again he is down, now on his knees. One hand wraps with an iron grip around Kevin's forearm, up near the elbow. The corner of Diego's mouth twitches in something harder to read.

 Despite the fact that his voice is still low and soft, it is unmistakably a growl, all sharp consonants and rumbling vowels. "Do  _not speak_ to me like  _that_."

\--------------------------------------------

 

" _Get off!_ " It is a cat-screech this time, a  _snarl_ , broken  _sob_ , and he lashes out, though the struggle is obviously to escape, not to attack. He's not trying to hurt, just trying to flee. "Don't look at me, don't  _touch me get away get away_ -" A second gut-wrenching sob, and he only stops when he can't break Diego's grip- too wounded, too weak, his world spinning from the blow to his head, and he collapses back, back arching, chest heaving. Pain chases across his face, but within seconds he's struggling again. 

"Get out get out get out get  _out!_  Let me  _alone_  godsdamnit leave me alone-" His voice breaks, and even though he physically couldn't only moments before he curls into a ball, fingers burying in his hair. Rocking himself, his arms shielding his face. Unwanted, unloved, stupid fuck up, and all the while, the little voice he didn't want whispering  _it's not true, it's not true,_ and that only made it all the worse.

\----------------------------------------------

 

Diego's face twists into a grimace when Kevin curls up in an attempt to both hide and decent himself.

 He wants to leave, to make Kevin remember /just how much/ he needs the scientist.

 But Diego, on policy, does not take orders from anyone who is not his direct superior.

 This is an issue.

 His grip on Kevin's arm tightens. "Why do you want me to leave."

\----------------------------------------------

 

So many answers to that question. So many- and he can't escape, he can't hide, Diego won't  _let him go_. It takes one, two gasping breaths before he's able to answer; before the words " _you hate me_." Escape, raw and scrapped from the bottom of his chest, and then he opens his eyes and oh. Oh, there is a sharp, clear lucidity in them that Kevin never possesses, focused and intense and so full of pain it's like sticking your hand in a pile of broken glass. "And you are a  _liar_." And it hurts, it  _hurts_ , but he's always known. Under the instability, under  the hold Diego has on him, Strex has on him- he has  _always known_. And for an instant, it shows; for an instant, there is something so resentful, so  _hateful_  in his face. 

 And then it's gone, and he's dazed and unfocused again, the next sob breaking free weak and silent, head dropping down, eyes closing. "You hate me." But this time it's weak and desperate, not the angry growl from moments before. "And I deserve it. And I can't- I can't- I _can't_ -" 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The clarity in Kevin's eyes and voice.. _alarms_ Diego.

 He's not afraid, no way, and he's not worried. But he knows that _that_ was something that was _absolutely not supposed to happen_ , and it means that serious reconsideration is required on Diego's part.

 He hates this. He hates having to change tactics. He is, however, left with very few remaining options.

 "If I- _Kevin_ ," he says to grab the man's attention, forcing his voice into something a tad less ferocious than he is feeling, "If I hate you so much, then why would I have bothered coming here."

\---------------------------------------------

 

Another tiny sob, but the way Diego says his name gets his attention- it always has. Sniffling, he wipes his eyes on the back of one bloodied, tattered sleeve, biting his lower lip softly. He looks so hopeful, now- so desperately hopeful. He  _wants_  to be proven wrong. He wants to forget. To believe. He wants to trust even when he knows he shouldn't.   
  
"Because-" Stop, sniffle, look away. "Because Strex doesn't like losing assets. E-even ones that are broken." 

 Because he knows. He  _knows_  he's broken, and wounded, and a complete mess. 

But still, that gaze is so-  _hopeful_.   
  
 _Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you love me, tell me you were worried, lie to me, make it stop, please-_

He presses his uninjured arm to his mouth, muffling the choking behind it. He doesn't reach out. He wants to- wants to be held and comforted- but he doesn't dare. 

He doesn't deserve it. Even a lie. 

\--------------------------------------------

 

"That is indeed true," he murmurs, he isn't lying, and Kevin knows that. Kevin is useful. He's the double of the most powerful man in Night Vale, and, although he isn't near as _powerful_ as said double, there is certainly something that sets him apart from the rest of the citizens of Desert Bluffs.

 "You are broken, but you can heal, you always have in the past." Physically and mentally, logically and emotionally.

 "I can't lose you." 

 It's a short phrase. A simple phrase that could be taken in any number of ways. Which is exactly what was intended, Diego thinks, as he very softly touches Kevin's temple with his fingertips, so, so gently, like any more pressure would spread the cracks in that fragile body.

\---------------------------------------------

 

Kevin flinches, cringes away like he expects a blow and then burst into fresh tears. Wracking, helpless sobs, and his good hand lifts to press over Diego's. Barely contact, but he has to  _touch_ ; he has to. "I'm sorry." This time it's not frantic apology; it's simply soft, sad, like someone who's caused pain and regrets it. "I'm trying. I'm trying, I promise." 

 He drops his head forehead; dares to let it rest against the shoulder, so close, dares to seek warmth and comfort and he's tense as a board, expecting to be pushed away. "I can't- I c-can't lose you, either. I need you." And unlike Diego, this is simple truth; but it, too, is true on many levels. Need because he's in love. Need because Diego keeps him sane and grounded. 

Needs for so many reasons, and they're all enough for him to hear what he wants to hear in Diego's words. 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Ah. There it is. Things are back to how they should be.

Diego nods and although he doesn't move any closer, he doesn't pull back when Kevin touches his hand, rests against his shoulder, bony frame shuddering with waves of emotion.

 "Mm. I know you're trying, I can see that."  His brow furrows slightly, and his eyes close. "Do you understand though - despite your trying, and despite the fact that I can't lose you - why I might be disappointed with the outcome?" He might ease up on Kevin if the man already had a good understanding of how bad everything had gone.

\----------------------------------------------

 

He nods, quick and quiet. "I-I messed up." He whispers, but he sounds considerably calmer. It's less frantic, less wild, more simple, soft acknowledgement. Like a child who has done wrong. He sniffles, calms further. The hissing, snarling voice in his head is quieting, bit by bit, second by second, quieter and quieter as Diego's soft voice replaced it. His warmth, his scent, his  _forgiveness_ , how could he ever want Kevin when he'd messed up so badly but here it was- 

 "The little broadcaster got away. And the thing inside him. It was important.  _He_  was important. And not just him." Sniffle, burrow a little closer. "And-and all the damage. I should have done better. We all should have done better." 

 And the voice shut up. 

 The tears  _stopped_. Like someone had flipped a switch. He didn't pull away, though.  "We all messed up. Me worst, because i said I'd stop them and I didn't." 

And his voice was already easing back into it's normal, lilting tones, thick with guilt but not longer hysterical. 

\---------------------------------------------

 

"Yes, yes." The scientist's voice is low and soft and silky, calming in a way that it really shouldn't be. "He was _extremely_ important, and without him in our grasp we'll be set a few paces back."

 Finally Kevin has slipped back into a realm of stability that Diego can manage without major aggravation. 

 Diego's hand settles over the back of Kevin's neck. The skin is warm and soft under his touch. "Don't misunderstand, I am highly disappointed. Very _very_ much so. We can do nothing about the fact that they are gone. But right now you are alive and in need of medical treatment; let's pay attention to that."

\---------------------------------------------

 

Kevin nods again, falling back under the spell as surely as someone eases under sedation. "Okay, Diego." Is the soft whisper, obedient, sweet. He  _feels_  the pain again, locks the whimper back and cradles his now-even-more swollen wrist to his chest. "I know. I'm s-sorry. I'm really sorry. We'll fix it. I'll fix it. I promise." He sniffles, leans hungrily into the hand on his neck. He's so  _skinny_ , Kevin; it doesn't help that he'll refuse to eat, sometimes unless Diego  _makes_  him eat, and doesn't seem to feel hungry for it. His heart is  _racing_ , pounding hard and fast, and he's clammy where his skin is uncovered.  Feverish, too, trembling gently, and he's losing the strength to keep himself upright now that he's calming. 

His head hurts. His entire  _self_  hurts, and it's not the good kind. He says so, with a weak smile- an attempt at being  _normal_. At making a weak little joke. 

\---------------------------------------------

 

Kevin's trembling again, and this time it's from pain, not sobbing. Diego rubs his thumb over the vertebrae, easily visible with the skin at the nape of Kevin's neck pulled taut. The joke about kinds of pain is feeble but, noting that this is an attempt at humor, Diego gives a tight-lipped (and, yes, humorless) smile.

"Can you get yourself onto the bed, or do you need assistance?"

\-----------------------------------------------

 

 _I can do it_ , he wants to say, but he knows it's a lie; wordlessly, his good hand is extended in a quiet request for help. He's unsteady on his feet, knees wanting to buckle, and he can't meet Diego's eyes. As if he's ashamed of being injured, or maybe just of being seen as weak and pathetic; still, he clings to Diego like a lifeline. Partly because he  _needs_  to, or he'll land on his ass- partly because he desperately craves touch right now. Craves it  _anytime_  he's struggling, to be honest, even the smallest of touches, of affectionate contact. 

 It reminds him of what is real. It reminds him he is real, Diego is real, Diego loves him and is here and  _can't lose him_. 

 And Kevin is so good at hearing what he wants to hear. 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Kevin is clearly so ashamed of his neediness. Diego helps him up, taking his hand and his shoulder- it's as little contact as he can manage, while still giving him the assistance necessary.

 Touch is something to be used carefully and strategically- not just handed out on a whim.

 Finally, with one last shuddering movement, Kevin is on the bed.

 Now is the time for contact; Diego gives the back of Kevin's hand a gentle pat. "I expect that you'll behave yourself this time when the medics come in to treat you." A command, not a request. "It's for your own good, and I'd like the healing process to be over with as soon as possible."

\----------------------------------------------

 

He nods, and his face is already calmer, more- collected. Is staring down at his knees, but then rolls over on his side on the bed, finally, _finally_  letting his body give in to the hurt exhaustion. "Yes, Diego." Quiet murmur, perfect obedience, though his good hand turns palm-up to gently catch Diego's fingers before he can pull away. He squeezes them carefully. Lets go almost instantly, tucks his good hand under his head. 

 "I didn't mean to scare them. Sorry." A trace of  _sheepishness_ , and his eys close, a tiny smile curling up his lips. "Thank you."  He whispers, voice still just a little too thick. 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Kevin does tend to heal reasonably well. Luckily. Waiting is boring and inefficient, in Diego's opinion. And he hates the medical wards, anyway - they are a bit too stuffy for his tastes.

 "Good boy. No clawing them apart either; that was immature of you, you should know better."

 Leaning down over the bed Diego softly brushes his thumb over Kevin's cheekbone. Over the pink, puffy skin, in that sharp line from the previous night. "..You're welcome." Taking a deep breath he rises back up, straightening his tie. "I'll be back later."

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Kevin shivers at the touch, his eyes sliding open half-way and a tiny smile curving his lips up again; anther nod. "I do. I'll be good." He murmurs in reply, like a scolded child. He is beaming at the 'praise'- he is fixing it. He is  _fixing it_ , he was doing things  _right_ , it would be okay. It would, eventually, be okay. He could make it right.  "No more." He butts, kittenishly, into the hand, then sinks back down as Diego straightens. 

 Oh. Of course he would leave. Diego was important. And busy. 

 He was lucky he'd come at all. 

 "Yay." It is soft and sweet, even as those bright eyes are just a  _little_  sad.. "I'll miss you until later." Sweetly- so sweetly. Real love on his face and in his eyes. 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Diego nods in acknowledgement. "Cooperate and you'll feel better sooner." He doesn't react directly to Kevin's grinning and affection, but just watches the changes with a vague interest. The emotional rebound is impressive, even for the radio host.

 He needed to get going, there were meetings to attend. Such a detrimental error that needed to be discussed.

 A slight hesitation, and then Diego gives Kevin a small half-smile.

 "Take care."

 And he turns to leave.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

It's obediently silent until he's almost out- then, softly- 

 "Diego?" Almost a whisper. And the smile is gone; it is obvious in the tone. "Come back, ok?" 

 Three, tiny words. Three tiny words that gave away how  _not_  okay Kevin still was; despite the fact that they are still calm, still normal, they are edged with desperation and need. But his eyes are closed, and he'd settled down into the pillows and bed beneath him.  Take care, Diego had said. 

 One wondered if even Diego knew how much such a simple phrase meant, to someone who so badly wanted it to mean something. 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

The three tiny words hold so much depth to them. They hold all of Kevin's worries, fears, insecurities.

 Diego pauses in the doorway.

 He _knows_ just how much a little phrase can mean. Kevin's hyper-sensitive when it comes to Diego; the smallest of the scientist's words or actions can send him into either a dreamy euphoria or an agonizing depression.

 

"Of _course_ I will," and that simple phrase is the last thing that Diego says before the door clicks shut behind him.

 

 


End file.
